pride comes before fall

Well, the title is a little dramatic for what I'm actually writing, but the funniest thing happened yesterday (and again, "funny" is used very loosely. it was funny to me) and caused me a myriad of emotions.

My son (Josh) is 4 (if you ask him, he is 4 1/2) and absolutely loves the concept of mail. I don't know if it was instilled into him from shows like "Blues Clues" when getting the mail is an event to sing about, but since he was a little guy (2?) he has loved receiving mail. I also think it is partially due to the first 3 years of his life we lived away from family, so he received consistent correspondence from his aunts/uncles and grandparents as a way to remember the family. Anyway, he loves mail. Receiving it, sending it - whatever you can do with mail, he likes it. And, since he has learned to write his name and has learned our address he likes to put his "letters" in envelopes and stick them in the mailbox (later to be retrieved by me or else we would never keep a regular postman). After he had gone through my supply of notecards/envelopes I informed Josh he would need to purchase his own notecards if he wanted to continue "sending" mail. A few weeks ago we were at Wal-Mart (if you are union, don't judge me) and he decided to pick out his very own notecards. I steered him away from the butterfly/flower cards, and convinced him the Halloween-themed cards were more manly. Within an hour of getting home, he had drawn pictures in each of the cards and sealed them in their respective envelopes.

On Sunday he came out of his room with a bucketful of these letters, and told me he would like to go to each of the neighbors and sell them his letters. (He's also very entrepreneurial, if that is a word, but that can be another blog) I convinced him not to sell his letters, but suggested he simply give the neighbors his letters after work on Monday. Thankfully he agreed.

So, there we were yesterday afternoon. We were playing in the front yard, and his friend Hayden came over to play and they both decided it was the perfect time to deliver mail. We live on a cul-de-sac, so I let him deliver the mail on his own while I watched from the driveway. I was so proud, watching him skip up the sidewalk to the various houses, singing "We're going to give the letters, the letters, the letters; We're going to give the letters, la la la la la la." I stood there, thinking "What a sweet boy I have. He's thoughtful, and generous, and is learning at a young age to spread joy to others." Most of the neighbors weren't home so he and Hayden took turns putting the envelopes in the space behind the glass door, and I stood there thinking "What a positive influence he has on his friends, and they are taking turns and cooperating - could I be any more proud?" A few houses up the road, a family arrived home as Josh was approaching their home. I went over to talk with the mom (and kind of give a disclaimer that he wasn't some freak kid, he just really likes mail) and I was standing there as the youngest son opened the letter Josh had given him. My expression of pride/pleasure quickly turned to horror as the little boy, rather than pulling out one of those Halloween-themed cards, pulled out a wallet sized picture of my 1 year old daughter.

I swear my stomach dropped. Was this what Josh had placed in each of the envelopes? Where did he even find those pictures? Why is he giving Gabby's pictures to the neighbors? How weird is that! I imagined the faces of the neighbors as they opened up these envelopes and found a sole picture of a 1 year old inside...a little freaky. I apologized to the family, took back my daughter's dignity, and called Josh over for an explanation. His response? "Mommy, I just wanted everyone to have a picture of my sister." Oh, how to explain to this sweet child that we no longer live in a world where that would be okay. So, I did my best to explain that giving pictures of his sister to families we really didn't know very well wasn't appropriate, and trying very hard not to kill his spirit I asked him if pictures of Gabby were in each of the envelopes he had delivered. The answer was yes. So, we went back around to each of the homes (praise God the families hadn't arrived home yet) and retreived the letters, all the while dealing with a sad-faced little boy who only wanted to share. I was fighting laughter, fighting empathy and fighting anger with myself for not even checking first to see what exactly he was planning on sharing with the neighbors. My afternoon of pride had quickly turned into one of embarrassment and self-criticizing...after some reflection I was able to laugh about it- enjoying the retelling of the story to my husband, and closest neighbor - who now has a picture of my 1 year old hanging on her refrigerator door.